so she found me, balanced above water,
pierced and rooted, another smooth seed
coaxed into leaf, “you are too much of the sea, living hand to mouth, blade to fire”
having come down river, no passing back
to the flame, palmetto bugs consume candle
consistent with wick, water oaks grow back
into the ground, branch tips rooting, thicket
tangle, verdured basketry “do you think
in shapes or living things, what seed have you
saved, what slips planted out”
having forgotten how each wave called your name
and every other name, sea demands the return
of songs lifted from shells, earth and fire belong
to an other, we have learned to live without
privilege of incredulity or denial, the weight
of what I have done to others, to myself,
this plight of breath, the weight fills our pockets
fills our hands, the dirt in my mouth is the buried
refusing to rest easy, “sugar, this is memory
not necromancy” poured into a gourd, salt
without ocean, distillation of the rawest spirits
flame bound to voice